The Voldemort Trilogy Book 3: Redemption
by urcool91
Summary: The war is beginning, and everyone must choose a side. Meanwhile, Albus is faced with indecision, moral qualms, and the politics of the afterlife. Rose, on the other hand, seems to have no hesitation, but soon she, too, will have to choose where she really stands. Rating may go up.
1. Chapter 1: Prolouge

_**So, here's the beginning of the third book. Hope you enjoy.**_

Since ancient times, people have known that all things must end. The Titans' fell and they perished. Heros meet that monster they battle and cannot beat. God knows that even angels can fall.

This is a story like all those others. Good or evil, each falls at their turn, each gives way for another hero or another villain. No one can live forever. What we have to try for is not immortality, but permanence. If we are permanent, we will never be forgotten and never really leave.

This is a story about attempting to make amends. This is a story about attempting to fix the world. This is a story about allowing yourself to be changed for the better, then using those changes to help others change for good. This is a story that is about to end, the story of Lord Voldemort.

_**Review! Next chapter: Albus and Frank talk about choices and get unnessicarily homoerotic.**_


	2. Chapter 2: To What Measure is a Man?

**_All right, let's see here... Nope, I don't have anything to say. Enjoy the chapter._**

Albus was under no delusions. He knew that, after dealing with such a definite blow as killing Harry and Ginerva Potter, Rose would have to put her full force into play. He had to ready his quickly.

The events of... that day, the day he had been supposed to go back to Hogwarts, had shaken him, to say the least. They had also opened his eyes. Rose was dangerous and would not hesitate to kill, he had known that before, but until then he had not realised how vulnerable she was. He could not kill her or her army.

He could also not ask his allies to die for him. Albus stood over the map in their headquarters. staring down at the multicoloured dots. Before thy had simply been markers, markers signifying strategically placed forces. now each pulse on the thin paper seemed a heartbeat to Albus, a heartbeat that Rose could easily stop.

It had been easier when he could ignore all the wrongs he'd committed. Then he had been able to justify the lives he'd known even then would be lost. Now the thought of more death was painful. Even one more caused by him would be too many. Albus looked up when he heard the door behind him open and close.

"Firewhiskey?" said Frank as a greeting.

"We're underage, Frank," Albus said.

"You're over 60, and I'm not much younger. Come on. You're going to need it." Albus took the glass of rufous liquid, considered it for a moment, then downing it in one gulp. True to it's name, it burned on the way down. There was something oddly comforting about the sensation. Albus sighed.

"How do you do it, Frank?" he said, turning back to the map.

"What? Get firewhiskey? I asked Porky for it."

"Not that," said Albus. "How do you stay away from it all? How can you be so good, yet send people into battle?"

"You're serious?" Albus nodded. "Truthfully? I don't think about it- them like that. I see what needs to be done and I send what's needed to do it. I don't agonise over people until after they're dead."

"Before, when Rose killed the Dents, you practically screamed at me for not caring enough. Now you're telling me the only way to do this is to stop caring?"

"The Dents were kids, not soldiers in the line of duty. They didn't ask Rose to kill them."

"They would've fought if I'd asked them and died the same way."

"Don't think about it too hard." Frank finished the remainder of his glass. "Basically, I divide the people who support us into two categories- soldiers and civilians. Soldiers volunteer for this shit; they know that they can die at any moment. Civilians don't. They're the ones we have to protect. I allow myself to cry over them because, really, they should have lived."

"Everyone should live," said Albus.

"Yeah, but if anyone has to die, it shouldn't be those peacefully going on with their lives. It should be those fighting, no one else." Albus groaned.

"You make sense, Frank, but I'm not sure I can do it." Frank's eyebrows knit together. "I keep feeling this... this pain. If anyone else dies, anyone, I'll know that it's my fault. I can't block it. I can't stop it. I've never felt anything this strongly before." Frank clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Concentrate on getting Rose. If Rose is dead, we won't have to worry anymore about any of this." Albus shook his head.

"Even if Rose dies, we won't win. Slytherins will still be seen as evil, and sooner or later someone else will decide to get rid of them-"

"And we'll be there. We'll rise up again. Al, you worry too much," said Frank. "Concentrate on this fight and this war. The future will sort itself out. Chances are you won't even be alive to see any more wars."

"That's a cheery thought," said Albus, snorting. "But, seriously, Frank, I don't want to have people fight and die for a peace that will only last a few decades. I- I want this to be done with in one war. I want prejudice and bigotry gone for- for forever." Frank shook his head.

"Al, I know you're not that naive. What you want to do is the work of centuries. Look at the Muggles: racism, sexism, and magicism still exist despite everyone's best efforts. You can't eradicate an idea like prejudice in one war."

"This war won't be worth it unless I can." Frank spun Albus around.

"Look at me, Albus. How can you say that it won't be worth it? If we don't fight, everyone deemed evil by Rose will die. I think that saving those lives is a damn good reason to fight, even if it doesn't make everything sunshine and rainbows and lollypops." For a moment Albus's eyes were firey with outrage, then his face fell and he looked as miserable as ever.

"You're right, Frank. Of course you're right." Frank relaxed and tried for a grin. It didn't quite work.

"Sorry, Al. I just-" Albus cut him off by turning back to the map.

"No. You're right. I should be satisfied with saving so many. I should be enough to make this a just war. But I still... I can't stand the thought of people dying for this cause and it all being for nothing. I can't stand the thought of things not changing." From behind him, Frank drew Albus into an embrace.

"Things will change, Al. They won't all at once, but they'll change. Maybe not in our lifetimes, hell," Frank smiled a little, "the way things are going, probably not in our lifetimes. But things will change with time, and we just have to start them up." Albus sighed, relaxing in spite of himself.

"I have to warn them," he said. "All of them. And if they dicide not to fight, I have to find a way to protect them. Draco's house should work for now." Frank laughed a little.

"You do know that none of them will say they don't want to fight," he said. Albus smiled bitterly.

"I know," he said. "I just want to give them a choice." Albus leaned back against Frank. "Frank," he said, trying to hold back a yawn and failing, "do you think I'm doing the right thing?" Frank bent so that his lips were almost touching Albus's ear.

"You're doing what you can, Al," he whispered. "And I think that is the closest we can get to the right thing." Suddenly he pushed Albus off him. "Go to bed. Let me man the map for a while."

"Aye-aye, sir," said Albus, giving a mock salute and then leaving the room. Frank sighed, rubbed his eyes, and poared himself another glass of firewhisky. He wasn't going to let Albus get away with anything less than eight hours of sleep.

**_Well, there. I hope that way enough homo for your appetites. Next: centaurs, werewolves, and really annoying house elves. Please review me!_**


	3. Chapter 3: We Are Called

_**I'm a day late on this one because I was off camping with my family. Mosquito bites and sunburns, yay. :-P Anyways, this is the next chapter. Got any reviews for me? :(**_

Albus sat nervously in the small antechamber off the opulent Malfoy dining room. He felt unready and unsure, though it was for a completely different reason than Frank thought.

"Come on, Albus," Frank was saying. "Just go in there, do your thing, and they'll accept it. I bet you won't have a single one say he won't fight."

"That is exactly what I'm afraid of," Albus muttered. "I don't want their leaders to say they'll fight without giving the rest a choice." Frank shook his head and adjusted Albus's robes one last time.

"You know how some of their cultures are, Al. Now go. Knock 'em dead." Albus rolled his eyes, and then the stepped into the dining room that was now a makeshift negotiating chamber. Mordreck, Glenmoor, and Jasper were there, again representing their respective races. Porky and another house elf, Roddy, sat huddled together, looking frightened at being treated as equals to the other races. Lesley studied her nails, bored by the meeting. Draco represented his freed Death Eaters. They had even managed to fit a giant, Crushskull, under the high vaulted ceiling. Albus cleared his throat.

"Thank you for coming, all of you," he said. "I'm sure you've all heard about what has happened recently, either from the _Prophet _or one of our more trustworthy sources. Rose has made a decisive move. She tried to destroy Slytherin House, succeeded in purging St. Mungo's, and murdered two of the most respected people in the Wizarding world, Harry and Ginerva Potter. She won't be able to stay hidden from the world at large for long. Now our problem is two-fold: we have to somehow stop and at the same time ensure that as few people, human or otherwise, get hurt or killed as possible."

"What is your plan, my Lord?" said Jasper eagerly. Albus took a deep breath.

"I don't have one," he said, "not yet at least. I want to give you a choice first."

"Why would good house elves want choices, Master Potter?" said Porky. "Porky and the house elves are happy with their orders." Roddy nodded emphatically.

"I understand, Porky, Roddy, I really do," said Albus. "But you all deserve to know the options you have before you."

"Our options are to fight or die. The answer seems obvious," said Jasper. Albus looked at the werewolf.

"You also have a third option." Around the table eyebrows were raise.

"Would you care to explain?" said Mordreck. Albus looked at the assembled one by one.

"I want you to go back to those you represent. Let them choose individually. If they want to fight, they can fight. If they don't, whatever the reason, have them know that they will still be protected."

"Why want no fight?" said Crushskull. Albus looked up at the giant.

"Maybe all of your species will want to fight. I don't know that much about giants except that you like magic and power but hate the Ministry as much as we do. But at least give them the option to be civilians, all right?"

"Aright," said Crushskull, nodding.

"Good. Any more questions?" said Albus. Jasper stood, his shoulders jutting forward angrily much like his animal self. A shaking finger pointed at Albus.

"Why do you insult us?" he spat. Albus raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"You expect us to sit back. You say we have no courage. This is a mistake, my Lord. We are werewolves and just as brave and able as the rest of you."

"Jasper, I didn't mean to imply that you were worth any less. But surely there are people among you who would prefer not to fight? This is just giving them that." The werewolf slammed his fist on the table.

"Why would we need to be protected? Sniveling cowards, letting others fight for their freedom while they sit comfortably at home!"

"Not all people are called to fight," said Albus softly. "You may want to fight, but others may not among your people. Who knows what their reasons are, but we will respect them."

"I am not in the habit of protecting fools," said Jasper, struggling to stay civil.

"Jasper may have a point," said Mordreck. "Though you are very considerate of those who do not wish to fight, one would have to enjoy or at least tolerate the Ministry and Rose to hold that opinion."

"Yes, but people fight in all sorts of ways, not just physical warfare. Some fight injustice by writing books, some by protesting in the streets. Already the people of Knockturn Alley have begun their revolution. and it is spilling over. There are many ways to say that something is wrong. We're just the least polite about it." Those gathered around the table stared. Albus sighed. "Look, if everyone, every _individual, _wants to fight, that's fine. I'll be surprised, though."

"But any sane person-" Jasper protested. Albus held up a hand, silencing him.

"Either you agree to give the choice, Jasper, or you leave now." Jasper sat down, growling. "Good. Now, any questions that won't lead to a major argument?" Porky tentatively raised his arm.

"P- Porky has a question, Master Albus, sir," he squeaked.

"All right," said Albus. "What is it?" Porky looked terrified at questioning Albus. He opened his mouth several times, but no sound came out. Finally the other house elf, Roddy, stood on his chair.

"Porky is wanting to know if Master Albus is wanting us to fight or not, sir," he said.

"That's up to you," said Albus. Roddy shifted uncomfortably.

"Roddy is a good house elf. He is doing what his master wants. What do you want, Master Albus?" Albus smiled sadly.

"I want you to have a choice," he said. Porky and Roddy looked extremely confused. "Look, I'm not going to tell you what to do. You guys have to tell the other elves the choices, then let everyone choose." The elves looked at each other and seemed to come to a decision.

"House elves will fight for Master Albus," said Roddy.

"I can count on you two, but if some of the others seem reluctant you should let them opt out of fighting physically."

"They are good house elves," said Porky. "They will fight."

"Porky-" Albus was cut off by a loud crack. Porky and Roddy had disapperated. Albus sighed, disappointed at his failure to communicate with the elves. He looked up at the creatures gathered around. "Well, go on," he said. One by one they disappeared until he was left alone.

**_Well, there you are, my friends and reviewers (hint, hint). Next chapter: afterlife politics._**


	4. Chapter 4: Founders and Father

**_This is the longest chapter so far (though that's not saying much :-P). Hopefully you enjoy it!_**

When Albus fell asleep that night he opened his eyes to a dream-world. Sun shined through a fine mist which lay over the paved roads and roman marble arches. It was coldly beautiful. Albus turned to see Tom standing behind him.

"Tom!" he exclaimed, their last, painful meeting rising to the forefront of his mind. Tom turned and smiled cockily.

"Hey, Albs," he said. "You're still alive, then."

"I'm pretty sure I am," said Albus. "Where is this? Why are you here?"

"Well, Alby-poo, this here place is Heaven, Elysium, Nirvana, and Valhalla all rolled into one. Paradise, basically." Albus looked at the painfully white buildings and shivered. Tom chuckled. "I know. Disappointing, right? You come here expecting a garden or the Emerald City or some such bull and instead you find an Eden of stone, with the Council of Light playing Big Brother and blinding everyone to it with their so-called goodness. Hypocrites, the lot of them," said Tom. He was far more bitter than Albus had ever seen him before, and that was saying something.

"It's sure better than Hell, though," said Albus. "Or Purgatory, for that matter. Where ever I was before I got reborn."

"True dat," said Tom. "Now, believe it or not, I actually have some reason to be here with you, Ally."

"You do? I thought you just showed to make up embarrassing nicknames."

"Well, that is my primary purpose," said Tom. "I've actually been sent by Sally. He's worked on the Council of Light and now has something to show for it."

"Sally?"

"You know, Salazar. The Great Snake. Running on his errands sure beats being Dumbly's court jester."

"Oh," said Albus as the waked through a tunnel into a giant Colosseum-like space. Walls of seats sat in a circle around him. In the centre was a man with a thin, hawk-like nose and a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. He turned toward Albus, revealing his sharp, electric-green eyes, which tit up as he saw them enter.

"Tom, you brought Albus. Your timing is most fortunate." Tom gave a small but utterly sincere bow that made Albus quirk an eyebrow.

"I had to wait until he got some sleep, Professor, but otherwise it all went off without a hitch. We had the most amusing talk about the architecture of Heaven."

"You had better leave. The Council of Light will be meeting soon, and you know how Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore would take you being here." Tom gave a grimace.

"Right. Good luck, Alby," said Tom, jogging back through the tunnel. Albus looked up at Slytherin.

"Why do I need good luck?" he said.

"You gave me a difficult task, Mr. Riddle. The Council of Light is not inclined to listen to evildoers."

"What am I here to do?"

"I think I have a slim majority convinced of Rose's villainy. They're going to vote on whether to get involved and they want a statement from you. After the vote I'm hoping to reveal Godric. Both votes could prove crucial to your efforts."

"How could you get a majority?" Slytherin raised an eyebrow.

"I have my ways," he said. "Godric, however, is an accomplished orator, and his good reputation might ruin things for us yet." Albus rubbed his forehead.

"All these politics make my head ache," he complained half seriously.

"You don't have to worry about that. Just concentrate on giving a convincing speech and let me care for the difficult parts." as they spoke the seats began to fill. Albus looked around at the greatest and goodest wizards as they chatted and, eventually, took their assigned places. Some he recognised, some he did not, but there was not a single Muggle among them. He frowned.

"Where are all the-"

"Even in the afterlife, the hierarchy must be maintained," said Slytherin with an admirable hint of snark. "What do you think of it?"

"I think," said Albus, "that they would be mortified to know that this is exactly what I envisioned when I was Voldemort." Slytherin didn't reply, he just glowered at the white robes of the Council and pulled his own green ones closer.

Quite suddenly the wizards, who had been chattering happily up to this point, fell silent. A man stepped up to a podium. Albus studied him as he looked haughtily around the arena. His hair and beard looked like wild wisps of cotton, and his nose was quite stubby and round. His eyes were sunken and an odd sort of blue that was almost limpid. His robes were not like the others, for instead of plain white they shimmered with light shades of every colour imaginable, and a few that were not. Albus got the impression that he quite like this effect, as he swished around his robes far more often than was really necessary. The wizard cleared his throat.

"Witches and wizards of the Honourable Council of Light," he said in a crackling voice. "Merlin calls for your attention." The people lining the stands were already paying attention to the old wizard. "That's... good," said Merlin. "Now, we all know why we've been called here today. I seems there's a bit of a situation down on Earth."

"That is an understatement, Merlin," said a voice to Albus's left.

"Quiet," said Merlin. "Now, we have brought one of our own that we happened to have on Earth to debrief us on the complexities-"

"One of our own? Ha!" said the same person. Merlin turned, frowning disapprovingly at the short, dumpy old wizard that had interrupted him twice.

"Whatever you may believe, Godric Gryffindor, Tom Riddle is in a fortuitous position considering recent developments. We should accept the unique advantage it gives us-"

"He is Voldemort and a Slytherin to boot!" said Gryffindor. "His House shows us clearly that he obviously hasn't changed with his second chance-"

"Might I remind you, old friend, that it is a member of your House that is the problem this time," said Slytherin acidly. Gryffindor bristled.

"What do you mean? My House is defending the wizarding government from a militant minority that want to take over by force."

"Then explain why this minority includes half the population of Britain and all sapient magical creatures."

"They don't count," said Gryffindor quickly. "They don't have wands."

"Only because the government doesn't allow it," said Slytherin dryly.

"And they can fight and they will," said Albus. "You said that I am Voldemort. Remember how effective the giants and the werewolves were during both wars?"

"Are you threatening me boy?"

"No, I'm requesting that you take a step back and look at what you're saying. I know you have only the good of everyone at heart, but this has gone on too long."

"The only thing that has gone on too long is the bigotry of the Slytherin brats!" Gryffindor's savage shout would have made most people quail before him, but Albus just smiled softly and stood a little taller.

"Bigotry," he said. "That is the core of this all, isn't it? Muggles fear and hate us because of our magic, Slytherin's good intentions turn to hate against Muggleborns through the centuries, noble opposition of my bigotry has been twisted into more. The more we try to correct our course, the more hat and prejudice seem to fill the world. Eventually, someone has to end this, and that person isn't going to be Rose."

"Rose?" Gryffindor sputtered. "What does your fair cousin have to do with your evil?"

"Say what you like, Gryffindor, but Rose is central to this because of a friend she found who turned her into a weapon that enjoys inflicting pain on others so long as she believes that the pain is justified."

"Her goal is to destroy all evil."

"Yet, because of this friend of hers, she has become the very evil she wants to destroy." Albus glared at Gryffindor, daring him to argue. Gryffindor's mouth hung open in shock, as he couldn't believe someone would dare argue with him. The seats above Albus were silent, waiting for one or the other to make a move.

"Oh, and I suppose you think that the Council will support your evil once you tell them who you cousin's friend is," said Gryffindor. "They'll never believe your blatant lies."

"I believe him," snapped Slytherin. Gryffindor snorted.

"And that makes all the difference? You are the cause of this problem! If it wasn't for you and your House-"

"What, Professor?" said Albus. "What would be any different?"

"Your evil wouldn't exist! Rose wouldn't be forced to end you and-" Albus's expression hardened and Gryffindor faltered. The corner of Albus's mouth pulled back.

"You heard what he said," Albus whispered. Everyone strained to catch his words. "If it wasn't for me and my House, Rose wouldn't be trying to murder us. Maybe if I didn't exist, she wouldn't be. But we are not the only ones to make mistakes. Does the name Peter Pettigrew ring a bell, Professor? If I'm remembering correctly, he was a member of your House."

"He was an abnormality," said Gryffindor. "The Sorting Hat made a mistake and everyone paid because they trusted him."

"And yes Merlin, the greatest wizard of all time, was a member of Slytherin."

"Another abnormally!"

"You are condemning every Slytherin to die! You would condemn even Merlin?"

"It's better to be safe than to allow another man like you to survive!" Gryffindor screamed. Silence fell over the arena. Gryffindor was panting and smiling in victory. His eyes glittered madly. Albus opened his mouth, and then he closed it into a grim line. He knew that he couldn't argue against the ravings of someone so blinded by their dark hatred. Albus bowed his head, about to take his leave. It was obvious that the Council of Light would never be on his side, no matter how right his cause, and he wasn't quite sure he wanted them.

"No," said a familiar voice behind him suddenly. Albus whirled around and felt his stomach clench. It was Harry Potter. Albus stared at his father, his heart beating much too quickly than was normal. This was his father and his death was his fault and for some reason he was defending him and... Albus took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

"Will you condemn the innocent along with the guilty?" said his father in a clear voice that sounded almost scolding. "If it was only one innocent, I might find your actions justifiable. Maybe. But I have no doubt that the majority of them have never even considered what you applaud Rose for."

"Ridding the world of evil? I have no doubt of that, Harry Potter." It may have been Albus's imagination, but the founder looked a bit afraid.

"Mass murder, Gryffindor, at least call it what it is."

"Murder is what killing good men and women is called. When they are evil, the preferred term is capital punishment."

"Either way, it ends the same: with a dead body and broken hearts." Harry Potter glared at Gryffindor with an expression that was as close to hatred as he had ever gotten. "You know, I was once proud to be a member of your House. You repel me now. I wish that I'd let the Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin." Albus's father looked down at Albus. His son felt his chest ache.

"Thanks, Dad," Albus whispered. His father nodded, understanding what had been said even though there was no way he could have heard. Albus looked up at Gryffindor. "You said that the Council will never believe me when I tell them who caused all this horror. That might be true. After all, who would expect murder and bigotry from the man who was a symbol against it? A member of the Council of light? Of course, the Council has bigotry in it already, no friend needed." The assembled muttered among themselves.

"What bigotry? How can one of the Council be less than good?" said Dumbledore, enraged into speaking for the first time.

"You are all less than perfect," said Albus, "but the bigotry I speak of has a source. Who was it that made it so that, eventually, one of the first things any of us hears is how all bad things come from Slytherin, despite the evidence on the contrary? Who has been abusing my cousin and helping her destroy eleven-year-olds and people who have against all odds put their lives back together? He is here, he will attempt to justify his horrible deeds, but I will call him out, even if no one else will." Merlin leaned foreword.

"And who is this man?" he said, though he and everyone else already know. Albus look a deep breath.

"Godric Gryffindor!" he bellowed, pointing to the accused Founder. The Council of light erupted.

**_Hmm, I actually quite like this chapter. Please review if you bother to read this. I know there are people who are, they just don't seem to like typing "Good chapter" or "Nice" or even "This sucked" into that little box right under this slightly annoying AN. Next: I attempt to write a battle scene._**


	5. Chapter 5: Fireworks

**_Um... sorry for being a bit annoyed last AN. I've been going through some stuff (which is also the reason this is a week late!), so all I can ask is that you be patient and bear with me. Also, this chapter has Dumbledore. I don't know what happened, I'm sorry._**

Albus's eyes snapped open to find a pair of large olive ones two inches away. He shot up and summoned a robe.

"What's happened?" he said, pulling the robes over his wrinkled jeans and tee.

"Knockturn Alley is being attacked, Master Potter," said the house elf. "They are fighting back, but they are needing reinforcements badly, sir."

"Right. Thank you," said Albus, getting up just as Frank ran into the room.

"Rose's forces-"

"I know, Frank. Call Gari the Black. Tell him we need me in Knockturn right now."

"All right. Where're you going in that robe?" Albus let out a quick laugh between his teeth.

"Knockturn Alley, of course." With a crack he disapperated.

Albus reappeared in his definition of hell. Men in the robes his father had worn, the robes of the Aurors, sent stunners and hexes at the citizens of Knockturn Alley. Some fought back with (admitted dark) curses, but most were just running, dragging wounded friends, and trying to dodge the attacks. In the middle of all this, grinning and spinning madly, was Rose. Albus felt his throat tighten as he saw Mr. Borgin shoot black sparks when a hex hit Malcolm, the squib. As Albus watched, Borgin knelt down beside the child, picked him up, and continued to fight.

"Mr. Borgin!" Albus shouted. "How goes the battle?" The old man turned and broke into a toothless grin.

"Ho, boys! Rally! Tommy Riddle has come!" Instantly the members fighting redoubled their efforts and those running stopped and joined in. The Ministry receded slightly, but Rose gave a shriek and they rushed foreword in a wave. With a roar Albus bounded toward their lines, bellowing every nonlethal but painful curse in his arsenal. Around him reinforcements cracked into existence, and for a moment he felt confident of victory for the first time in the war. Then Rose stepped foreword.

The smile on her face and the gleam in her eye caused Albus to falter. She raised her wand and he realised what she was doing.

"Take cover!" he shouted as he cast a silent shield charm and a force slammed into him and all those fighting for him. It tore through the hastily constructed shield, throwing Albus back a good 20 metres and instantly destroying the foundations of the tall, ramshackle buildings behind them.

Albus's head cracked against the pavement. For a moment the world grew fuzzy and spun around him, but he forced his eyes to focus on the sight above him. The buildings that Rose had blown the foundations out of were crumbling from the ground up and baring down on him and the citizens of Knockturn Alley.

He pointed his wand skyward, trying desperately to stop the falling mass of metal and brick. It slowed, but his efforts seemed too little. Still, he held, sweat rolling down his face, determined to keep the building aloft so that those under it could get to safety. The world around him was dimming; the effort to keep the spell going was becoming too much for him. He felt as though he was straining for the last bits of his power, but that was ridiculous. He was Lord Voldemort, he should not be struggling with "Wingardium Leviosa."

"Reducto!" shouted a voice in the distance, but it wasn't in the distance, not really, because the weight of the building was lifted from him suddenly as a fine sand fell. He fell too, struggling through the darkness, trying to remain conscious. For a moment he broke through and Frank's face, full of concern, was visible, then he sunk into the black...

When his eyes opened he was absurdly comfortable. For a moment he simply lay there, staring at the cloudless sky above him, only dimly aware of the silk he was swaddled in or the cool, wet clothe that lay on his forehead. A cup was placed to his lips and he dutifully drank, thankful for the water.

"My dear boy." Albus broke from the cup as though it was poisoned. He hated that voice, even though it sounded so calm and sincere and understanding. It's conviction of goodness was just what made it so dangerous.

"Dumbledore," he spat. He struggled to get out of his wrappings but he was practically tied down. He freed one hand and reached up to remove the wet cloth. Dumbledore grabbed his wrist.

"Tom, you'll just injure yourself further. I'm trying to help you, but I can't do that if you can't-"

"Shut up, old man," Albus snarled, twisting out of Dumbledore's grasp. Panic was rising in his chest. "Just- What the hell happened to me?"

"You over strained yourself," said Dumbledore softly. The kindness made it all seem worse. It would be easier to hate him if he'd been as obviously evil as Voldemort himself. "You've been performing great feats of magic a lot recently, and you reached the limits of your body."

"So I guess this is just another unexpected quirk of being reborn you didn't feel I should be warned about, like the voices and the mood swings?" Albus knew he was overreacting, but once he'd started he couldn't stop. It was like a Voldemort attack, but he was unsure how much was Voldemort and how much was just him. There wasn't even a difference anymore, he realised. At some point that line had blurred until it had dissipated completely.

"Tom, could you please listen to me without interrupting?"

"No, I don't think I could." Dumbledore took a shuddering breath.

"Could you at least trust me to do what is best for you?"

"No, I can't do that either." At the blunt, cold statement Dumbledore's shoulders slumped.

"Tom, you have to trust me."

"How can I?" said Albus. "You deny Tom's person hood. You _hurt_ him. You're unwilling to admit you might be wrong, even though you being wrong will get us all killed, because you're orchestrating all this. No one matters, just the ends you can accomplish with your little, unwitting pawns!" Albus was shouting by the end. Silence fell uncomfortably, and Dumbledore looked down and fiddled with the sleeves of his robes.

"You're right," he whispered. Albus's mouth dropped open. "I'm a repulsive mess, morally. I don't care if people die. It's inevitable, really. So I concentrate on the end. I concentrate on _winning the war._ I don't consider what the means are or what their repercussions might be, because if anything but what I aim for happens..." He shuddered.

"You think the end justifies the means," said Albus, still stunned. Dumbledore looked up defensively.

"I think that an entire _House_ is worth saving, and I am prepared to do anything to make sure that Slytherin lives on."

"If you're so determined, when will you stop? What is your line? Do you even have one? Because I do, I know where I stop, and if you won't-"

"We can't afford lines! I can't afford second-guessing! You say I'm pushing you around like pawns, and that might be true. But the difference between a simple player and a Grandmaster is that a Grandmaster is willing to put pieces in danger if it means that he can win more easily."

"So you're good at that. Congrats. But these pieces aren't made out of wood or stone. These are lives that you're destroying- or letting be destroyed at any rate. And once they're down you can't get them back again."

"It's a good thing that I have more than 20, then," said Dumbledore. "Don't preach to me about feeling, Tom. You of all people-"

"You were the one who wanted me to feel. Well, I'm feeling now, and killing's my line. Don't be a hypocrite." Dumbledore sighed.

"I'm afraid that I may qualify for Hypocrite of the Year by the time this war is over," he said. "You saw me then, fighting you. I was brilliant. I would never have said these things. I was virtuous, moral, _right. _Now what am I? A dead man who kills some people to save others." Albus smiled with much more sincerity than he had ever shown toward Dumbledore before. That Dumbledore was doubting himself somehow made it less inhumane, and him more human.

"As long as you're trying to save more lives than are killed, I think that Spock would approve."

**_Well, there you are now. I don't know why I'm incapable of making a single character completely unlikeable. Now all I have left in the Complete Monster department is Gryffindor. Ah, well. I may not be able to update next week. We'll see how it goes. Reviews are completely welcome._**


	6. Chapter 6: Hachiwara

_**Ok, I'm late. Sorry, school's just started up again and I have a ton of homework from my AP classes. I'll try to keep on schedule, but I'm not making any promises. RL has to come first, or so my mom says.**_

When Albus again awoke, he shifted on the hard cot and groaned. Every muscle of his body hurt. A cup was put up to his lips, but when he took a gulp he scrunched his face up in displeasure. It was a nasty, sour poison he didn't recognize.

"Come on, Albus," muttered a vaguely familiar voice. Albus forced his eyes open to find Neville Longbottom kneeling over him.

"Water," he croaked. Longbottom wordlessly handed a glass to him. Albus drank greedily, then handed the empty glass back to his professor. "Thanks," he said, voice a bit stronger now. "What've I missed?"

"I don't know all of the details," said Longbottom. "Frank told me that there had been an attack, so I came to see if I could help and found... well, all of this." He gestured around him a bit helplessly. Albus struggled to sit up and eventually propped himself up on his elbows. He looked around blearily, feeling sick. They were in a large, opulent room. Hastily multiplied cots sat in shaky rows, each one filled with an injured member of his army.

"How many?" Albus choked out.

"What do you-"

"How many have I gotten killed?" he said, wanting to shout, but he couldn't. He couldn't risk disturbing the people who'd gotten wounded because of him, _for _him.

"I don't know," said Longbottom. "You'd have to ask Frank that."

"Can I talk to him, or is he busy with the war?" Longbottom hesitated momentarily.

"He's been holed up in the Shrieking Shack since the battle, but I'm sure he can come-"

"No," said Albus, raising a hand. "He's busy doing something important. I can wait to meet with him. Just find me someone who knows what the statistics are. Please." Longbottom gave Albus's shoulder a squeeze and went to find someone, he head down and a half-full goblet of potion in his hands.

Albus's arms collapsed beneath him. As he hit the improvised pillow he closed his eyes, his breathing irregular and shallow. Seeing the results of the battle made the ever-present ache in his stomach worsen. It didn't matter that they were soldiers, he didn't care how necessary the fight might be. People were dying and being injured because of him, because of the product he'd created with his prejudice. If he hadn't existed, these people would be going on with their ordinary lives, Rose included.

"Albus," said Longbottom, touching him lightly on the forehead, "I have someone who can tell you everything." Albus opened his eyes.

"Hey, Al," said Lesley, sinking cross-legged by the side of his cot.

"Lesley," said Albus, "are you injured?" Lesley shrugged.

"Not as badly as you were. What happened? One moment you were fine, the next you collapsed. For a moment Frank and I thought you were d- dead."

"Not dead, just exhausted," said Albus. "I overstretched this body." Lesley quickly wiped any confusion from her face.

"Well don't do that again," she said. "They almost destroyed us when they saw what had happened." Albus bit his bottom lip and turned away.

"How many, Lesley?" he said quietly. For a moment Lesley's eyebrows scrunched together, then her expression softened.

"Wait until you're stronger, Albus. You can beat yourself up then." Albus shook his head.

"I need to know- I need to know how much blood I have on my hands now."

"You have nothing on your hands. Don't be an idiot. Many more would have been killed if you hadn't shown up when you did."

"But would they have needed to be saved? Would Rose have attacked like that otherwise? Until I can be certain that both answers are 'no' I'm going to blame myself, as is right."

"The answers are irrelevant. What's happened has happened. You've saved us all, and not only from that building. Do you think we would have been safe from Rose even if you hadn't been reborn? No, chances are we would have chosen to be blind to her plan as we were killed one by one. You made it so we couldn't help but see."

"I made it so there was something to be seen. Me, with my stupid actions before, with my stupid prejudice and evil-"

"You don't know that." Albus opened his mouth. "No, shut up and listen to me. Maybe it was your fault, a bit. Merlin knows you didn't do us any favors. But you've got to get over yourself. This prejudice has been going on since before you were born, even the first time. You are not the sole and ultimate source of all evil. People have hated us, and we have hated people, since Slytherin House was created."

"It never would have gotten this far if I hadn't encouraged-"

"No. Look, if you have to blame anyone, blame Slytherin. He was the one who started all this pureblood bullshit in the first place."

"You don't know the whole story," said Albus. "Maybe he had a good reason."

"A good reason to exclude Muggleborns from his House, making us all look bad in the process? A good reason to encourage the prejudice and superiority that our society emphasizes enough as it is? I'll believe that he had a good reason when I see it." Albus opened his mouth to argue, then clesed it again. He couldn't. Lesley's logic in her blame was sound.

_Albus... _Slytherin's voice was small and broken, begging Albus not to blame him, or at least listen to him. _It was... a different time. A difficult time. Things were not as clear as they are nowadays. Prejudice was common sense, a survival skill in a world where a wizard could be beaten to death by a mob if he accidentally revealed himself. I knew, or I thought I knew, that the risk if we took in one raised by them was too great. I didn't want to risk innocent students, even if it meant being seen as prejudiced. And I cannot regret my decision even now.  
_"You shouldn't," Albus muttered, understanding and reluctantly agreeing. He looked up at Lesley. "You can't say that you know what it was like to live in Medieval times. History is just a story told by many sources, some that we are biased toward due to our 20/20 hindsight. Besides, blame is a paralytic."

"You're one to talk."

"True," said Albus, trying to grin. "Maybe we should both let it go and concentrate our time and energy on more important things." Lesley cocked an eyebrow.

"Like what?"

"Like that all-important question of what the hell is it that Rose wanted so badly from the Ministry that she was willing to capture and torture my mum, a Gryffindor."

"Right," said Lesley. "I'll arrange a meeting right away." She turned away and bit her lip, trying not to smile amongst the hurt and dying. She didn't know what it was that she had said, but something had put Albus back into the right frame of mind for what was necessary, and she was absurdly proud of it.

**_Well, that's all for now. Next chapter: Ginny's job is revealed, the plot finally gets started, and I make endless puns on "Every Rose has it's Thorn." Reviews can go in that lovely little box right below._**


	7. Chapter 7: Thorns

**_Two days late! I'm really sorry. The one act play and homework are really eating up my time lately. I'll try to be on time next week._**

It was a small, private conference when they finally did meet to discuss Albus's "all important question." THe only people in the main headquarters were Lesley, Frank, and Albus. Albus worriedly observed taht Frank looked stressed and overworked, blatently ignoring the fact that he was still so weak that it took all his effort to just stand and look normal. Lesley, however, noticed and conjured him a chair, which he sat in without really thinking. Albus's head dropped into his hands.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have told you about- about the night war really started before now. I just didn't realize..."

"Get to the boint," said Lesley. Albus looked up in time to see Frank shoot a glare at her.

"Right. That night," Albus's throat closed, and he swallowed a few times, "the night Harry and Ginny Potter died, Rose let something slip. I hadn't even thought about it until now, I'm so-"

"Albus." Albus bit his tongue at the warning.

"Sorry. She told me that she had kidnapped Ginerva Potter because Potter had something she wanted- a password or spell or something. It most probably has something to do with Ginerva Potter's job at the Ministry."

"Then we're too late. She already has Aurors, the rest are probably under her thumb by now." Frank sounded extreamely annoyed at being pulled away from his work for this.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," said Albus. "Mu- Mrs, Potter was an Unspeakable after she left the Auror Office. She often brought her work home to finish and would sometimes allude to a secret project known only to her- and the Harry Potter, I presume. He knew practically everything anyways, in or out of his actual job description."

"A project secret from the Unspeakables? Is that even possible?" said Lesley. Albus shrugged.

"Apperantly yes. I'm not saying it was normal. They were them, so of course they'd be trusted with a project even those under the Unbreakable Vow weren't to know of. What we need to know is what it was-"

"And how Rose found it out," Frank said, "since even you don't know."

"Right," said Lesley. "We'll divide this up, then. I'll go to the Ministry, seeing as I'm the least recognizable. Frank will sneak back to Hogwarts and see if he can get anything out of McGonnagal, or at least get her on our side. Albus will go to his house and see if Mrs. Potter left any parchments relating to her incredably secret project."

"Sounds good to me," said Frank. He and Lesley looked to Albus. Albus shook his head.

"No," he said. Lesley's mouth gaped open.

"All right, you go to McGonnagal and Frank can-"

"Neither of you are going to get involved." Albus's voice was a soft growl, daring them to argue.

"We're about as involved as we can get, Al," said Frank, unimpressed, "and you're not going to be able to get rid of us." Lesley nodded.

"No. Concentrate on the war. Fight that way."

"We are going to fight in any way we possibly can, and there is nothing you can say to make us leave you dealing with this avenue on your own," said Frank.

"If the Ministry had my mum working on it by herself then its probably really dangerous!"

"Being a Slytherin is really dangerous, mate."

"I'm not letting you two get hurt because of me. Besides, you're not even a Slytherin, Frank!"

"We're already hurt because of you!" Frank shouted. Albus's face became oddly blank.

"Exactly," he said. Horror flashed across Frank's face.

"I didn't mean it, not like that-" He backpedaled wildly, but the words were already out, hanging heavy in the air between them.

"No, you're right. you've both gotten hurt because of me, because I haven't been able to end this quickly enough. I don't want you hurt ever again."

"Albus, stop blaming yourself for what Rose and Slytherin made," Lesley said, annoyed. "Didn't we have this conversation already?"

"One conversation can't fix me," said Albus. "Just because this situation isn't my complete fault doesn't mean I'm absolved from it."

"Albus, I swear, I didn't- I don't blame you. It just-"

"Slipped out, I know," said Albus. Frank's mouth clamped shut and his face turned white.

"That wasn't what I- I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered, not completely in that moment.

"No! No, no I am," said Albus quickly. "Was it..." Frank shook his head, ridding it of the memories still clinging like cobwebs.

"Lily? Yeah." Frank grimiced. "That was one of the last things she said to me. Well, that and that our fr- friendship was over and she was done making excuses for me."

"I'm sorry," Albus said again. "I wouldn't have said that if I'd known."

"It's fine. I'm fine. I'm over it now." Lesley studied him.

"You're obviously not," she said.

"We're getting off topic. We're supposed to be telling albus that we're going to-" He was cut off when Lesley flung her arms around him. For a moment he stodd stiffly in her hug, but gradually he melted against her. Severus Snape buried his head in Lesley's shoulder and began to sob.

"Its all right," Lesley murmered, gently rocking him. "Its not your fault."

"No... no, it is. If I hadn't been so stupid... If I'd listened to my Lily instead of my other friends... She wouldn't- she wouldn't..."

"At least you got to see her again and apologize," said Lesley.

"Th- That's just it, I didn't. I was so scared... I knew... I know she hates me."

"I'm sure she doesn't hat you," said Albus, putting a hesitant hand on Frank's back. Frank was tremnbling under his palm.

"No, she does. I know... I deserve it. After all I did... Merlin, I sold her out. I told Him... I told him _everything_, even though I knew-"

"Shh, you make a mistake. You know everybody makes them," said Lesley.

"You don't understand! I loved her, Les, even if she didn't love me. But I knew she had a son... I knew how close she'd come to- to dying... but I didn't think."

"And if I'd chosen your father, Frank? Would you have shown the same repentance?" Frank gulped. "I thought not. You were my most loyal follower, willfully blind to the horror because it was all you had left after her. It took me threatening her for you to realize what was going on, slowly opening your eyes and ears."

"If I hadn't destroyed it, I- I wouldn't have needed to be saved. I wouldn't have this..."

"Maybe, maybe not. You can't go back and change what happened. I know this sounds stupid coming from someone like me, but try to focus on the present. Don't think about it, or at least don't let it consume your life. Instead, make it your goal to save more lives that you destroyed." Frank peeked over Lesley's shoulder.

"Is that what you do?" Albus nodded.

"Its difficult," he said softly, "because you can't really tell. You can't count the number you save. So I'm trying so hard not to get more killed. It doesn't work, but what else can you do? How else can you absolve yourself?" Albus looked away from Frank, not wanting to meet his eyes. His words were coming fast and thick. "You can't. You just fucking can't. So I try to keep people out of it, to keep them safe, but they insist on being dolts and rushing in-"

"So that's what all your fuss is about," said Frank, straightening up and instantly becoming the cool, copable person they were all used to seeing. Albus picked his jaw up off the floor.

"Frank, I swear to God, if that was all faked-"

"Oh, no, the emotions were quite real, my Lord. In fact, I was... dangerously close to losing control. Your sentaments, on the other hand, stun me."

"Really?" said Albus bitingly.

"Yes. Do you think we don't know what we're getting ourselves into? This isn't a matter of you protecting us, this is us protecting you, fully aware of what we and Rose might discover."

"I can't let you-"

"You're not letting us," said Frank. "We're insisting." He and Lesley grinned, and Albus grinned back in spite of the fear that lay coiled in his gut.

**_Well, there you are. The box underneath this looks rather plain, don't you think? Why don't you liven it up with some lovely black romen letters? Next chapter: Lesley and gratuitous Star Wars references._**


	8. Chapter 8: The Evil Empire (Lesley)

**_I'm so sorry. I've been having some problems with my depression meds, so it's been a rough week and a half or so. I won't be this late again, I promise. Just please don't stop reading._**

It was actually a bit scary to stand in the brightly lit, wide entrance of the Ministry, with the fountain depicting Harry Potter still draped in mourning black. Lesley tried to ignore the suspicious looks she was getting and hold her head high. The main problem was that she didn't quite know what to do. Her original plan of just entering the lift and going straight down to the Department of Mysteries was obviously not going to work.

"Excuse me, sir," she said in her sweetest, most innocent voice to the old wizard checking wands in front of the lifts. He held out his hand for her wand.

"Name," he said as he began to test it.

"Lesley McBrian." His brow furrowed for a moment.

"Age."

"13, sir."

"House."

"Slytherin, sir." He looked up, his eyes wide.

"Just what in Gringotts do you think you're doing here, girl," he whispered. "Get out of here before the law passes and you get yourself arrested!"

"What law?" said Lesley, heart beating far too fast.

"The law that Weasley girl somehow got them to vote for," he said. "Said she saw the Slytherins murder the Potters in cold blood, with Harry's own son as the ringleader. No, I'm not saying she's lying, but surely the arrest of any Slytherin in a bit much. Next she'll be asking to re-post the Dementors at Azkaban."

"Look, sir, I've got to get in."

"I can't let you. They'll be done within an hour, and without Harry in there to ground them I know what'll happen."

"I'll just have to be fast, then," said Lesley.

"Look, girlie, I can't in good conscience-"

"Then don't. Do it in bad. I can't tell you what I'm doing here, but I can tell you that what Weasley is saying is a lie and I'm trying to save us all."

"You're just a kid!"

"I'm also a Slytherin and I don't want to die. I don't see anyone here jumping in to save us." Lesley's voice softened. "I you want to help me, sound an alarm. Tell anyone who was in Slytherin to go, leave, hide, and with any luck we'll be in contact shortly."

"And who is this 'we'?" Lesley smiled.

"The Life Barfers," she said, then she laughed. "That joke never gets old." The wizard still looked hesitant, but he nodded.

"Fine," he said. "I'll ward 'em and I'll let you in. Put you down as a Gryffindor just to be safe. But you've got to promise me something."

"What?"

"Promise me this won't lead to another war."

"I can't," said Lesley, studying the man's earnest, lined face. "The was has already started."

"I was afraid of that." The wizard sighed. "You are free to go through."

"Thank you, sir." As Lesley entered the lift she saw the old man scribbling down notes and enchanting them. The doors clanged shut.

Two wizards and a witch entered on the next floor. The two wizards studied her critically and she shot them a smile. The witch smiled back at her.

"Visiting you parents, dearie?" she said.

"Nope," said Lesley, "saving the world." The witch laughed nervously.

"Well, be careful, dear, and make sure you're home in time for dinner."

"Galinda," barked one of the wizards, "you know what I told you."

"Yes, sir," said Galinda. "I remember." The other wizard rolled his eyes.

"Sorry about her," he said to Lesley. "She's just nervous about the law passing."

"Of course I am; you know I'm a Slytherin, Crick."

"You have absolutely nothing to worry about," said the first wizard sternly. "Just keep your head down and answer all the questions honestly. Merlin knows you were never involved with anything like _that._" Lesley shook her head.

"That's not good enough for Rose," she said. "Believe me, I've tangled with her before. The best thing you can do, Galinda, is get out as soon as you can, before you're rounded up and killed. Get in contact with WFIH, they'll help you go into proper hiding."

"Surely you're exaggerating!" said Crick.

"My name isn't Shirley, its Lesley. And I'm most definitely not exaggerating." The lift stopped and Lesley got out as a pleasant female voice announced that it contained the Department of Mysteries. "Ciao!" The lift doors closed over two wide-mouthed wizards and a wide-mouthed witch. Lesley could only hope that Galinda (what kind of name was that anyways?) would take her warning seriously and leave.

The hallways were dim and eerily silent. Lesley supposed that there had to be people somewhere, but for now she was the only one in sight. This was fortunate but slightly creepy, and Lesley couldn't help but look over her shoulder nervously, half expecting a trap. But Lesley was able to keep walking, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls, until she was directly in front of the door.

Lesley paused with her hand on the doorknob. She had heard rumors of what was in there, everyone had, and she had no doubt that security had been upped since Rose had taken over. She gripped the doorknob, twisted it, and-

"PASSWORD!" the doorknob bellowed. Lesley jumped backwards.

"Holy shit, give a girl some warning!" she shouted.

"You didn't expect me, so I won't bother asking for the password," said the doorknob, sounding almost gloomy. "Go or I'll be forced to sound the alarm."

"Sorry, but I can't," said Lesley. The doorknob was silent for a moment.

"That is a new response," it said at last. "I don't know quite what to make of it."

"Most people ran away?"

"Yes, and don't bother to hold conversations with sentient doorknobs."

"Well, I don't have much of a choice. I have to get in there."

"Why?" said the doorknob. "You don't work here. I didn't recognize your hand."

"Because if I can't find out why Mrs. Potter was killed many, many people will die."

"You don't even know what she was working on," the doorknob sniffed. "How do you expect to find it in there?"

"I don't know," Lesley admitted. "I was hoping you could help me."

"You expected to find a talking doorknob?"

"I was hoping for a talking wall, but a doorknob will do."

"We have one of those too." The doorknob raised its voice. "Oi, Carl! There's a girl here who wants you!" A low groan emitted from the wall.

"What is it this time, Paul? Had gum stuck to you again?"

"Shut up, that was one time! Besides, you don't see me complaining when you forget to unlock Gary."

"Who's Gary?" said Lesley.

"I'm Gary," said the door. "These two idiots are my brothers. What do you need, child?"

"Two things," said Lesley. "I need to get in, obviously, and I need to know what Mrs. Potter was working on."

"I don't know what Mrs. Potter was doing before her death," said Gary, "but I do know what door it was behind. Ask for Micah."

"Gary, you're not seriously going to let her in," said Paul the doorknob.

"Why not?" said Gary.

"She doesn't know the password!"

"Oh, stop your whining. You don't like the feel of that Weasley any more than I do."

"If anything, you should hate her more than we do," mused Carl. "She was awfully rough with you when you didn't let her inside."

"Of course I hate Weasley, I just don't want to let anyone in unauthorized."

"A perfectly valid and legitimate concern," said Lesley. "But you see-" She was cut off by the sound of footsteps and a familiar voice. "Quick! Let me in!" Lesley whispered frantically.

"Why should we?" said Paul haughtily.

"That's Rose! If she finds me here she'll kill me!" With a grunt from Gary the door opened. Lesley threw herself inside and slammed it behind her, cutting off Rose's angry shriek of "Get her!" All was still and silent once more. Lesley walked to the center of the room, doors encircling her.

"I need Micah," she said. The room whirled around her, torches creating rings of gold, until it slowed and stopped. Whispers made the hairs of her neck stand on end. She walked forward and tried the doorknob.

It twisted.

**_There we are. I'm so sorry about the delay. I'll see you in a week hopefully. Review, please!_**


	9. Chapter 9: The Man Who Died (Frank)

**_I'm so sorry I'm negligent. I can't seem to concentrate anymore. I promise I will finish this, just bear with me, please._**

The fire in Headmistress McGonagall's office flared green then died down, revealing the dark-robed Frank Longbottom. Dusting himself off quickly, he looked around. The Headmistress was not to be seen and the portraits were mostly snoozing in their frames- all but one.

"Hello, Severus," said Frank. The painted figure inclined his head.

"Mr. Snape," he said. "Or do you still have that preposterous name?"

"Officially, yes, but feel free to call me by either. I have none of the misgivings Albus has."

"His misgivings are idiotic. Going by a different name does not give him a different past. A former Dark Lord by any other name still must defeat the Dark Lady."

"True, but it gives him a sense of security," said Frank, settling into the Head's chair. "To him, Tom Riddle is the equivalent of me calling myself Snivellus." Snape's lips pinched together.

"I suppose you have a point," he said reluctantly. "But Tom Riddle is not just a nickname with... distasteful memories attached. It is his true name, and any baggage that comes with it is his own to deal with."

"In his mind, Albus Potter didn't sign up for this. No matter how the lines between them are erased, no matter how guilty he feels for every death he caused or ordered then, he doesn't want to give up his name. It is his last layer of protection against the responsibility he's already taken."

"For the war?"

"For both wars?" The Snape in the portrait sighed.

"So," he said with uncharacteristic forced cheeriness, "any activities more generally accepted by those your age?" Frank flushed.

"I'm not dating, if that's what you mean."

"Mr. Potter's daughter is... quite fair."

"Shut up! You're making me feel like a pedo."

"You're not a pedo if you're only two years older." Frank groaned.

"Look, I've lived through war. I went to school with her _grandparents_. Besides," Frank said, his face softening, "no matter her looks or her name, she's not Lily Evans." It seemed to almost physically pain him to say those words. "There's no way that I'm ever going to have Lily, not even as a friend. I know- I know it's my fault, all my fault. I know that I can't go back and change that, no matter how much I want to. And even if I could..." He took a deep breath. "Even if I could, I wouldn't. The way life turned out wasn't perfect for me, but without my spying on Voldemort more people would have died or gotten hurt. I wish that it could have happened a different way, but despite all me regrets I- I think I like the way the world's turned out to be."

"Except for the bigots, of course," said Snape.

"Except for the bigots," Frank agreed. "But, really, compared to what could have been, this is pretty damn good."

"Its exactly as it would have been, just against a different group," said Snape sourly.

"Oh, stop being such a cynic," said Frank.

"Unfortunately I am a painting, and therefore cannot adapt to your disgustingly optimistic worldview."

"It's not optimistic, I'm just saying that Voldemort in charge would have been far worse. Think of how easy it was for him to take over the Ministry. Only a small number would have fought him, and even they would have died out eventually. What we have in this reality is one person with her prejudices out of control to such a degree that I have no doubt that she'll have trouble finding followers as she shows her true colors."

"I would not be so trusting of human nature. In my experience the vast majority of people care only for their own limited, silly little worlds where they are the ultimate ruler."

"You are a painting," said Frank tartly. "Your experience consists of sitting on a wall. In _my _experience, people can be gruel and awful and downright nasty, but most want to do the right thing. I'll put my trust in that and hang the consequences. I've seen the worst of humanity and I've seen the best. I have hope that at the end of this the latter will outweigh the former and I will be counted among them." He heard the clack of a deadbolt unlocking. "That would be the Headmistress. Don't intervene this time; I want to get her to see the truth myself."

"As you wish," said the portrait dourly, leaning back in his frame and pretending to snooze. Frank smoothed down his rove and crossed one leg over the other. The door opened and Headmistress McGonagall entered.

Frank steepled his fingers and studied her. She looked as though she had aged twenty years in the few weeks since Harry Potter had been killed. Her cheeks were sunken, her skin hung, soft and wrinkled, from her cheekbones, and her eyes were dull and lifeless. When she saw Frank sitting there in her chair she stared for a moment then sighed.

"Oh, it's you again," she said. "Come to say you told me so?"

"Professor-"

"Because I won't pretend I don't deserve it. I should have learned my lesson about listening to students years ago, but it's too easy to fall back on the old, time-worn adage that wisdom equals age and age equals wisdom. Well," she said, sitting down across from Frank in the chair usually occupied by an unruly student, "go on."

"What is it you believe about the night Harry and Ginny Potter died?"

"I don't believe anything," she said. "All I know is that one night I get an owl telling me that Harry was dead and his son and niece were both blaming the other for killing him."

"Yet you're saying that I told you so." McGonagall sighed.

"Severus. we both know that you're who Frank Longbottom really is. If you and Albus were also telling the truth about who _he _really is, well-"

"We are. Look, listen to me, Minerva. We may not have parted on the best of terms," McGonagall snorted and Frank ignored her, "but in the end, despite the utter mess I made of my life, I was a hero. There is more to us than our mistakes, and Albus is-"

"Voldemort was a murderer," said McGonagall a little shrilly.

"That may be true, but so am I," said Frank. "You seem willing enough to forgive me."

"That's different," McGonagall muttered. "You were spying on him, the war could never have been won without you, and you couldn't blow your cover-"

"I did things, Minerva, horrible things. Don't try to justify it by saying that I was really on the right side. Atrocities done in God's name are still atrocities. Maybe I was right, maybe I was doing it for good, maybe I was just doing what had to be done. But no amount of right can change the fact that what I did was wrong. Sides don't matter if you're willing to throw away your morals to win, and that's exactly what I did."

"But as you said, you were on the right side, and you didn't have a choice-"

"I had choices, so many choices and chances, but I missed and chose wrong on them all. And look where the right side has gotten us now. Another war, another Dark Wizard. another unlikely savior. It's your opinion which savior was more unlikely."

"Voldemort is not our savior." Frank stood, his cloak a fluid wall cascading down his shoulders.

"Who else is there?" he said. "The Slytherins wouldn't have trusted me if Albus hadn't. Harry Potter is dead. The heroes of the last war are old and fading. Only a new generation, led by two atoners, can save the world now." McGonagall was silent, staring with haunted eyes into the rosewood desk.

"What will you have me do?" she whispered.

"Tell the students the truth," said Frank. "Tell them everything, how Rose has begun her crusade and the Slytherins must be trusted, how Albus and I are really reborn. If you tell them the truth, they can guard themselves and give us that many fewer people to fight."

"They are only children!" said McGonagall. "How can we frighten them like- like this?"

"They're stronger than you give them credit for," said Frank. "And besides, this is no time to shy away from the rage of war. There are first years in Slytherin fighting a force trained by Godric Gryffindor. We need everyone ready for what's to come."

"And what is to come?"

"Ruin." Frank's breath hitched on the word. "Utter ruin."


End file.
